


Wet Streets Cause Rain

by Lyri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Controlling Siblings, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Memory Loss, Permanent Injury, hospital stays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyri/pseuds/Lyri
Summary: Stiles has just landed his dream job - a paramedic in New York City.Things always go wrong, don't they?
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, the world is a disaster, I've just lost my job and I've had this fic in my head for years. I thought this would be a great time to actually start writing it.
> 
> Since I'm going to be posting this in chapters, I'm trying to keep certain things underwraps, so that people will be surpirsed, but please, PLEASE, if anyone wants/needs to know where this story will involve, just send me a message and I'll tell you what happenes and what those permanent injuries are. Hopefully without spoiling too much for the story, lmao.
> 
> Yes, there is a character death fairly early on. It will a well known character and will proabably be obvious who it might be. But, again, if you need to know before continuing, just hit me up.
> 
> I will update the tags as each chapter is posted, if people would rather wait until all the details are public.
> 
> I'm not going to promise weekly updates, but since I'm on lockdown and have no job for the foreseeable future, I'll do my best.
> 
> Title is from a quote by Michael Crichton.
> 
> Un-beta'd because I still have no friends in this verse!

“Yes,” Stiles Stilinski says, aiming for calm as he tries not to let the person on the other end of the phone know that he's currently bouncing around his living room in excitement. “That sounds great. I'm really looking forward to helping to implement that policy.”

On the couch, Isaac Lahey snorts loudly as he attempts to swallow a laugh. Stiles flips him in the bird.

“Thank you, I can't wait to get started. I'll see you then.”

Stiles hangs up, makes sure that the phone call has actually ended, then throws his hands in the air.

“YES!” he screams. “I got the job.”

“So I figured,” Isaac says, a smile in his voice. He looks up from his psychology textbook so that Stiles can actually see the smile. “Congrats.”

“I have to call Derek,” he says in a rush, tapping at his phone again. “I got the job!” he yells as soon as his boyfriend of three years answers.

Derek Hale chuckles softly in his ear, making Stiles sigh in contentment. 

“ _I never doubted you. You'll make an amazing paramedic.”_

Stiles bounces again. “I can't wait to get started. I've been training for so long, you know? This is everything I've ever wanted.” He chuckles. “Well, except for you, of course.”

“ _Smooth talker,”_ Derek mumbles.

On the couch, Isaac groans. “If you two are gonna have phone sex, can you at least leave the living room? Or wait for me to leave?”

“We're not going to have phone sex,” Stiles says with a roll of his eyes. He turns his attention back to the phone at the sound of Derek's embarrassed stutter. “Isaac's being an idiot.”

He can almost hear Derek's eye roll through the phone. _“We should celebrate, though. I could call Peter and see if he can get us a table somewhere in the city. Mastro's?”_

“Mastro's!” Stiles yells. “That would be awesome, but it's almost an hour away!”

“ _We deserve it!”_

Stiles smiles. “Fine, you twisted my arm.”

“ _Alright, I'll call Peter and see what he can do.”_

“Table for three; we'll bring Isaac for putting up with us.”

From the couch, Isaac gives him a thumbs up.

“ _Four; we can bring Cora. I haven't see her in ages.”_

“Excellent!”

Derek pauses and Stiles waits, giving him time to get his thoughts straight. _“I...do I also need to talk to Peter about the apartment? You know, now that you've officially got the job?”_

Stiles takes his own moment to pause. 

Peter Hale, Derek's uncle and Stiles' old babysitter from back home in Beacon Hills, was the reason Stiles met Derek in the first place. When Stiles had told Peter he'd applied to college in New York, Peter had revealed that his nephew – who Stiles had never even heard of before – was also at college in the city, studying early childhood education. Peter had offered Derek's services as a local guide, once Stiles had officially been accepted, and the two of them had become good friends over the course of Stiles first few years in New York. Eventually, they had become more, their friendship creating a solid foundation for a relationship. And now, three years later, they're talking about moving in together.

Except, today meant it was a lot more than just 'talking', wasn't it? Stiles' new job with Engine 15 meant that he'd have to move out of the apartment he shares with Isaac.

“Um, yeah, yes, absolutely.”

“ _Yeah?”_ Derek asks, a grin in his voice. _“Peter said he found an apartment in the East Village. That should be suitable enough for the both of us, right?”_

“Yeah, of course. That should be perfect.”

“ _I'll talk to Peter, he'll probably be able to get us in to see it some time tomorrow, maybe.”_

“I can't wait.”

“ _Cool. I'll call to Peter and I'll pick you up in a few hours.”_

“Love you!” Stiles says has he hangs up, getting a satisfied exhalation in reply, meaning Derek isn't alone to allow him to returns the sentiment. Stiles is intimately familiar with Derek's neurosis around emotions and displays of affection, public or otherwise. Derek has had more to deal with in his short life than anyone. Not that Stiles has been immune to tragedy in his own life – he did, after all, lose his mother at a very young age – but Derek has had more to deal with than he deserved.

But no matter, whatever the reason Derek couldn't return the gesture, Stiles knows Derek will make it up to him later.

He turns to Isaac. “Dinner on Uncle Peter?”

Isaac slams his textbook shut. “Sounds good. I'm gonna go shower.”

Stiles decides to do the same thing, retreating to his own room to get ready, deciding, since this is a special occasion, to dress up a little in nice slacks and a shirt.

He's looking forward to having a good night.

  


  


///

  


  


All of Stiles' enthusiasm dissipates as soon as he gets outside and sees Theo Raeken, Derek's annoying roommate, sitting in the front seat of Derek's stupid Camero.

Stiles' good mood shifts rapidly, and he glares at Derek as his boyfriend gets out of the car to allow Stiles to climb into the back seat. He's just about to step into the awkward car when he notices that Theo hasn't gotten out to allow Isaac to climb into the seat behind him, and so he steps back to allow Isaac's long limbs to maneuver themselves into the car's backseat first.

“What is he doing here?” Stiles hisses as he waits for Isaac to get settled.

Derek shrugs, abashed. “He overheard me on the phone, told me he was tagging along. I couldn't really say 'no', could I?”

“Yes!” Stiles exclaims. “You say, 'I'm sorry, Theo, but this is a celebration dinner for my wonderfully successful boyfriend and my friends'. Emphasis on 'friends', and tell him to get his ass out of the car!”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “Stiles.”

Stiles wags a finger at him. “You're too nice, that's your problem. Kids are going to walk all over you in the classroom.”

Derek manages a smile. “Yes, Stiles, I'm sure the seven year old's in my class will get the best of me before the end of my first week.”

Stiles bites down on a grin. Derek, like Stiles, had also just secured his first job out of college, teaching second grade at Asher Levy Elementary School in the East Village of Manhattan. Stiles can't wait to see him at work. He's already planning a day where he can visit Derek's class under the pretense of fire and accident safety.

It's gonna be amazing.

“Will you get into the fucking car, already? I'm fucking starving.”

And just like that, Stiles' resurfacing good mood deflates and he glares at Derek again. “You owe me big time for this.”

Derek grins again. “Just take a look at what he's wearing and imagine the look on his face when Mastro's doesn't let him in.”

Stiles eyes light up and he practically jumps into the back of the Camero, peering between the seats to get a look at Theo's basketball shorts, sleeveless muscle shirt and sliders. He can't hold back a laugh and it's Theo's turn to glare.

“What?”

“I just landed my dream job, Theo. I'm allowed to show my excitement. What is it you're doing again?”

Theo turns back to face the windshield, folding his arms over his chest in indignation, and Stiles takes a moment to reveal in the knowledge that Theo is repeating his Junior year of college after having failed out again.

“Cora's gonna meet us there,” Derek says as he puts on his seat belt and puts the car into drive.

Stiles looks at the space in the back seat between himself and Isaac and can understand why.

The ride to the city is quiet for the most part. When Derek starts asking questions about Stiles' new job, when he starts and things like that, but Theo cuts the conversation off by turning up the volume on the radio and Stiles spends the next five minutes shooting daggers at the side of his face while Theo looks smugly out the window.

Isaac shifts in his seat, his knees hitting the back of the seat in front of him, causing Theo to lurch forward, grunting painfully.

“Will you watch those fucking legs, Beanpole?” Theo spits.

“Well, maybe if the shortest guy here wasn't sitting in the front seat with all the leg room, that guy would be able to give up all that leg room to the Beanpole,” Isaac snarks, but Theo just ignores him, changing the channel on the radio again.

Stiles snorts. “Who even listens to the radio anymore? You know Derek has iTunes, right?”

Theo says nothing and Stiles is reminded of the knowledge that the roommate is only messing around to piss the rest of them off.

This drive can't be over soon enough.

Stiles collapses back into the leather seat, turning his head to look out the window to watch the streets flashing by, his attention falling away to his memories.

Theo first came into their lives a little under a year ago. Derek's last roommate, his best friend, Vernon Boyd, had finally found the courage to propose to his girlfriend and the two of them had moved in together. Derek and Boyd had been friends for years, and losing his roommate had made Derek a little depressed. He'd asked Stiles to move in to his apartment, now that it was just him, but at the time, Stiles hadn't felt ready. They'd been a couple for two years at that point, sure, but Stiles, being Stiles, was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, and decided he wasn't ready for cohabitation. He declined the offer, promising to revisit at a later date.

And while Derek could very well afford to pay rent on the apartment by himself, he didn't like the idea of rattling around the place alone, even though Stiles spent the night frequently. And so, he'd advertised for a roommate.

Theo didn't seem like a waste of space at first. He actually seemed like a decent guy, someone Stiles could see himself hanging out with, considering they both played lacrosse and liked the same kind of music. But, as soon as Theo learned that Derek and Stiles were a couple, and not just friends, his attitude completely changed.

Stiles doesn't think he's homophobic, that isn't the vibe he's getting. Theo has never actually said he had anything against gay people...it was almost like he was pissed off because Derek suddenly wasn't available. It was as if he'd built up this whole fantasy of moving into Derek's spare room with the intention of moving into his bed not long after. Once he realized that that wasn't going to happen, he's whole demeanor changed. He did everything he could to get between Stiles and Derek.

Like inviting himself to Stiles' very special dinner.

Stiles blames himself. If he'd had the guts to move into Derek's apartment back then, Theo wouldn't be part of their lives right now. They wouldn't be getting Single White Maled by the guy in the front seat.

Isaac reaches out and gives him a friendly punch to the shoulder in solidarity, and Stiles manages a smile. 

“So, did Peter say anything about the apartment when you spoke to him?” Stiles asks, trying to turn his mind to better things.

Derek smiles at him in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, he says we can go see it tomorrow, if we want. Probably a good idea that we do. I have another couple weeks before I start the new job, but you don't have that long. We should get most of our stuff moved in before your first day.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, you're right. Commuting from Staten Island would be a real pain in the ass. I'll start throwing shit in bags when I get home tonight, get some stuff moved over there tomorrow.”

“Wait, what the fuck are you guys talking about?” Theo interrupts, turning in his seat so that he can see both Derek and Stiles clearly.

Derek flicks his eyes away from the road once. “Stiles and I are moving into the city. I told you that.”

If looks could kill, there would be a corpse driving the car. “You didn't mention anything about moving out.”

Stiles leans forward. “Uh, yes, we did. We told you I was up for the job at the fire station and that, if I got it, we would be moving to the city.”

Theo nods. “Yeah,” he says, waving a hand between the three of them. “We.”

Isaac chuckles as Stiles gapes. “Are you out of your tiny, little mind? In what world would we want you to live with us? Why would you even want to live in our first apartment together?”

Theo pouts and turns back to face the windshield. “Excuse me for thinking we were friends.”

Stiles can't help it, he laughs outright. “Friends? Are you kidding me? You think we're friends when all you've done since you moved in with Derek is try to come between us?” He pauses, narrowing his eyes as he glares at the side of Theo's head. “That's it, isn't it? You still think you can split us up, don't you?”

Theo doesn't say anything, even when Derek prompts him, just turns his head to look out his window. With a sigh, Derek jerks the car sharply and pulls over to the side of the road. He cuts the engine and turns to look at his passenger. Stiles leans forward, one hand on Derek's shoulder in a show of solidarity, while Isaac takes out his phone and pretends he can't hear the conversation. Stiles is going to miss living with him.

“Theo,” Derek says again, his voice harsher this time, “tell me this isn't what all this animosity has been about.”

Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes. “We've talked about this, babe,”

Derek holds up a hand, silencing him. “It's one thing speculating; it's something completely different to have actual confirmation. Theo.”

“I'm not sorry, okay?” Theo snaps, still looking out the window. “I don't even know what you see in him, he's not even in your league.”

“Excuse me?!” 

“I figured, if I hung around long enough, you'd see that eventually.” Theo laughs, bitterly. “But you're just as fucking stupid as that idiot.”

“Will you stop fucking talking about me like I'm not even here?” Stiles grits his teeth, but Theo just goes on.

“You deserve someone like me, someone on your level. Not a moron.”

Stiles feels his face flush as every fear he's had about his relationship with Derek hits him all at once. He's doesn't think that Derek would ever leave him for Theo, of all people; Derek doesn't like muscle heads like that. But he won't deny that he's thought about it more than once, over the last three years. As far as he knows, Derek has only ever dated women before he got together with Stiles. Stiles had only ever met one of these women, Braeden, someone Derek had been casually seeing when he and Stiles first met. She was attending the local police academy and one of the most beautiful people Stiles had seen in real life. He couldn't believe it when, a few months after Stiles first met them both, Derek casually mentioned that they weren't together anymore. They'd seemed so perfect for each other.

A year into their relationship, Derek had confessed to Stiles that he'd broken things off with Braeden because he was falling for Stiles, and, while it had taken another two years for them to start dating, Derek hadn't been with anyone else.

Even now, Stiles doesn't know if he believes Derek's version of events, but he has to admit that it gives him a nice ego boost to think Derek has loved him for so long, that they are such a solid couple.

Except, now Theo is telling them that he sees gaps in their relationship, somewhere he can force himself in, so that he can try to split them up. It hasn't worked, obviously, but Theo is just one person. What if the next person who sees those same weaknesses is someone much more Derek's type? Will they succeed where Theo failed?

Isaac groans and Stiles, startled out of his depressing spiral, turns his head to look at him, but he doesn't lift his eyes from his phone. “You mean Stiles? Who has supported himself since he was eighteen, put himself through college and his EMS training and landed an amazing job on the first try? Or you? A guy who does nothing all day, lives on daddy's money and has no real life of his own, to such an extent that he has to insert himself into someone else's relationship? Given the choice, I know who I'd choose.” A noise erupts from his phone and Stiles realizes he's playing Candy Crush while giving his epic advice.

In the front seat, Theo just shakes his head. “No one cares about all that shit. Derek's a ten, and so am I. Stiles is a five. On a good day.”

“I beg your fucking pardon?” Stiles can't believe he has to sit here and listen to this crap.

“Theo.” Has Derek actual said any other word in the last ten minutes? “I care about that stuff. Yes, I am attracted to Stiles; I think he's a fucking fifteen on his worst day. But that isn't the only reason I'm dating him. He challenges me, he...he pushes me to be better, to be the best I can be, because I want him to do that, too. Stiles completes me.”

“Aw, babe,” Stiles says, genuinely choking up despite the situation.

“You both make me sick,” Theo spits.

“As long as you know that...that nothing is ever going to happen between us,” Derek says, his voice soft

Theo shakes his head. “You're making a mistake.”

Derek shrugs. “Maybe. But it's my mistake to make. You don't get to decide for me. No one does. Not even Stiles.”

“Take me home,” Theo says, not even bothering to respond to Derek's words.

Stiles gives up, collapsing back against his seat with a roll of his eyes. 

“I'll drop you off at the Burger King before the bridge and order you an Uber.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Theo spits, finally turning away from the window.

Derek shakes his head. “You've just admitted that you were trying to split me and Stiles up. We have reservations; we're not missing dinner because you're an idiot.”

Theo shakes his head. “Can't believe I wasted the last year trying to get into your pants. You're just as much of a stick in the mud as that fucker in the back seat.”

“Hey! I'll have you know that my senior prank was voted the best of the decade. I am anything but a stick in the mud.”

Isaac giggles. “That was fucking epic. Coach's face when he found his car in the pool. I still don't know how you did that.”

Stiles smiles. “I will never tell.”

Derek starts the car again and pulls back onto the road before coming up on a stop sign at the end of the street.

Stiles doesn't know where the car comes from, doesn't even hear it coming. When he's lying on his deathbed, Stiles will never be able to tell anyone where the car comes from, just that it plows into the passenger side of the Camero at a speed too great for the road they're on.

There's the sound of metal bending and breaking, tires squealing as Derek hits the breaks and tries to stop whatever's about to happen. There's the sound of glasses shattering, but it's like the ability to see straight has been taken from all of them.

Stiles lets out a less than manly scream as the Camero is punted to the left, into the convenient wall that seems to have been put their to make their lives just that much worse.

The last thing Stiles hears is the sound Derek's head makes as it hits the window.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no medical training - everything here is from TV.
> 
> Once again, un-beta'd. If anyone sees anything wrong, please let me know.
> 
> Also, I can pretty much promise chapters won't always appear this fast - I'm writing as I go!

Stiles wakes up with a start, with a groan. He can't have been out for long, he's still in the car, it's still moving, as though it hasn't come to a complete stop yet. There's someone yelling from far away about calling 9-1-1.

Looking to his right, he sees Isaac, eyes closed and head lolled against the busted out window next to him and he turns his attention to the seat in front of him.

“Derek?” he calls, pushing against the leather. There's something warm running down the side of his face and when he tries to move, to get to Derek, he yelps in pain.

Looking down, he can see that Derek's seat has been shunted backwards, pinning Stiles' legs in place. His jeans feel damp.

“Derek?” he calls again and leans to his right as far as he can, trying to see around the seat to his boyfriend. Except his eyes land on Theo and he jumps back sharply.

Theo's side of the car took the brunt of the accident, the front of the other car ramming into the passenger side door in almost a direct hit. Theo's body is a crumpled mess, his neck sitting wrongly on his shoulders, his right arm twisted across his body, like he was reaching for something. And his eyes are wide open and staring lifelessly.

Theo's dead.

Stiles chokes back a sob, tears already falling for someone he had no actual feelings for but has lost anyway.

“Derek.”

Shifting in the even more compact space, Stiles carefully slips his arm around the driver's seat, doing his best to gently feel his way to Derek's throat, until he can get two fingers awkwardly against his neck.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he feels a flutter under his fingertips, and his tears are for a whole new reason.

“St-” 

There's a noise next to and Stiles turns to see Isaac, suddenly awake, and looking at Stiles with wide eyes. His hand is pressed firmly against the spot where his neck meets his shoulder, blood dripping through his fingers.

“Shit!” Stiles yells and leans towards his friend. Isaac tries to say his name again, but he doesn't have the strength.

Stiles reaches across and places his hand on top of Isaac's but it doesn't really help to stem the bleeding, they need something more substantial. 

“Hang on,” he says carefully, trying to lean forward even more in the tight space the crash has made for him. But his legs won't move, trapped as they are, and he can't get the leverage to get his jacket off. He looks down at his legs and he can tell there's something very, very wrong. But right now, the more pressing matter is Isaac, and he needs to do something.

Stiles grabs hold of his right leg by the material of his pants and pulls upwards. The pain in unimaginable and Stiles bites through his bottom lip, both to keep from screaming and passing out.

He's moved his leg though, freed it enough to bend his knee up onto the seat, giving him enough room to maneuver to get his jacket off.

He leans back across the seat to Isaac, moving his hand and replacing it with his jacket. It's immediately soaked in blood, the gray material turning black in seconds.

“Hello?” the voice makes Stiles jump and he turns to see an old woman looking in through the broken window.

“Please,” Stiles begs, “we need help.” 

The woman nods. “I called an ambulance, they're on the way. I shouted, but I don't think anyone heard me. I didn't want to get too close in case the cars exploded. That happens all the time on _NCIS._ ”

Stiles chuckles, despite the situation. “I don't smell any gas, so I think we're safe on that front.”

“I don't think your poor friend is going to be okay.”

Concerned, Stiles looks back down at Isaac, who's looking back at him with fear in his eyes.

“No,” the old lady says, “the passenger, in the front seat.”

“Theo,” Stiles answers Isaac's silent question. “He took the full impact from the other car.” He attentions returns to the lady. “What about the other car? Is anyone in there hurt?”

The woman looks sad. “The lady behind the wheel passed away, too, I think. She's very pale.”

Stiles takes a second to wonder what happened. He turns his head to look out through the windshield. They must have hit the stop sign because it's not there anymore, but the rest of the street in front of them is still clear, and Stiles knows Derek would have done all he could to avoid the crash if he had even a second's notice that something was about the happen.

The sound of sirens makes Stiles jump and he turns back to the old woman, who's smiling kindly at Isaac, even as she reaches into the car to take over from where Stiles is still holding his jacket to stem the bleeding.

That's when he spots it, a driveway behind the woman, and at the end of it, an open garage door. 

One mystery solved.

An ambulance pulls to a stop behind them, a fire truck next to it, and Stiles looks down at his legs again. Whatever happens, he won't be starting his new job any time soon.

The woman waves to the paramedics, stepping back when a young woman steps forward. She looks at Isaac, then Stiles, then back to Isaac again.

“Hey, I'm Deanna, how you doing?” she pulls the jacket away from Isaac and cringes as Isaac grunts in pain.

“Oh, you know, just another Thursday night,” Stiles quips. There are more people bustling around, firefighters moving to Derek's side of the car, talking among themselves, while still more head towards the other vehicle.

“Can you move?” Deanna asks and it takes Stiles a second to realize she's talking to him.

“Um, my legs are pinned. My pants feel sticky.” He pauses when he realizes what he's said. “I promise we weren't having that kind of night.”

She grins even as she replaces his jacket with a thick piece of padding. “Well, at least you haven't lost your sense of humor.”

“I'd have to be dead for that to happen.”

Deanna's smile dims slightly. “But what you're telling me is that we're not getting you out of there until the front seats are clear.”

Stiles nods, resigned.

“What about you, Curly?” Deanna asks Isaac. “Think we can get you out of here?”

Isaac's eyes cut to Stiles, worried, but Stiles shakes his head.

“Go, buddy. You need to get sorted out. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, and you're going to bleed out of that hole if you don't get it closed up.”

Isaac just nods, and Deanna disappears again to talk to someone. She returns seconds later with a bunch of firefighters.

Stiles doesn't pay attention to the garbled discussion about how to get Isaac out, just reaches across the space between them and takes his hand.

Theirs was a weird relationship, Stiles and Isaac. It wasn't like his friendship with Scott, that was cultivated their entire lives and built on hatred of nap time in kindergarten and getting bullied by Jackson later on.

Isaac had first hit Stiles radar in middle school. His father was once the coach of the high school swim team before he was fired for almost causing Matt Daehler to drown.

But it wasn't until the year before high school, when Stiles started noticing how down and depressed Isaac had started to look.

At first he put it down to the fact that Isaac's older brother, Cameron, had just been killed on duty while serving overseas. But as middle school ended and high school began, Stiles realized that Isaac wasn't getting any better. In fact, it looked like he was getting worse, walking around hunched over to make himself look smaller, flinching anytime someone touched him.

It was during P.E one day, when they were changing in the locker room, when Scott noticed the bruises on Isaac's torso and the tops of his arms, though he'd tried his best to hide them. Scott had told Stiles as soon as he was able, and together they went straight to Stiles' father, the Sheriff.

It all came out not long after, how Isaac's father, Caleb, had had some sort of breakdown after first, the death of his wife, then losing his job and finally, the death of his eldest son, and the force of that breakdown was focused on Isaac and Isaac alone. Caleb had been abusing Isaac pretty badly, including locking him in an old freezer for hours at a time.

Naturally, Caleb was sent to prison for his crimes, but that left Isaac completely alone.

It was Stiles who started pushing for Isaac to come and live with the Stilinskis. They had the space and the time, Stiles had pretty much been looking after himself and Scott since he turned thirteen, cooking for four more often than not, one more person wasn't going to upset his delicate balance. It just meant he had a lot less left overs.

It took a few weeks to organize everything, but eventually, Isaac moved into the guest room next to Stiles', which very quickly became Isaac's room.

He fit in well; Stiles had been expecting some sort of resistance, agitation at being displaced, but Isaac adapted well. Yes, he had to see a counselor, but after a few months, it was like Isaac had always been a part of their lives.

He, Scott and Stiles traveled to school and back, most days, Scott stayed with them to do homework and have dinner and they grew close.

Three became two when Scott started dating Allison Argent during their sophomore year and abandoned them for her more often than not, and Stiles and Isaac grew closer still.

So close that, when Stiles started talking about going to college on the East Coast, Isaac decided to tag along, something Stiles was immensely grateful for, even though he ended up at Columbia and Isaac at NYU.

Now, if someone asked Stiles who his best friend was, he knows he would disappoint Scott with his answer.

Stiles is broken out of his reverie when Isaac moves, his hand slipping out of Stiles' grasp. Stiles looks up and sees Isaac being carted off by three firefighters and deposited on a nearby gurney, Deanna and another paramedic getting right to work.

The pain in Stiles legs is getting to him now, slowly creeping up into his thighs. His left foot is numb. But he pushes all of it to the back of his mind and returns his gaze to the front of the car. Someone has turned Theo's head away, so that Stiles doesn't have to look into his dead eyes every time he turns around, and there's also a collar around Derek's neck, indicating that someone at least suspects Derek has a spinal injury. Maybe that's why he's unconscious.

“Hey.” Deanna's back, sticking the whole of her upper body through the broken window so that she can reach Stiles on the other side of the car. She turns his head to the side and starts wiping at the blood on the side of his face and from his lip, where he bit it earlier. “You're gonna need some stitches here.”

Stiles chuckles darkly. “I think my head is the least of my worries right now. I think I should be more concerned about my legs.”

Deanna eyes him critically. “What's going on there?”

“My foot is numb,” Stiles says honestly, pointing to where his left foot is still trapped. His pants are saturated with blood now.

Deanna pulls at the material, but she shakes her head. “You've lost a lot of blood, but at this angle, I can't tell where it's coming from. Sit tight.”

Stiles offers her a weak smile. “I ain't going nowhere.”

“Will, give me a hand,” the paramedic says, wiggling her way backwards and Stiles can just about make out her feet kicking in the air, before another medic appears behind her and pulls her free of the car. She turns to the gathered crowd behind her, but just before she's out of his field of vision, Stiles sees all the levity vanish from Deanna's face. Stiles has rarely seen someone look so serious.

Activity around the cars seems to ramp up a notch, everyone moving just that little bit quicker and Stiles wonders if it's Derek or himself who has caused everyone to serge into double time.

“Okay, so they're going to be taking off the top of the car.” Deanna's back and she's holding something out to him through the window. “They have to bust out the windows so I'm gonna need you to put this over you to protect you from the glass.”

Stiles takes what she's offering and realizes it's someone's firefighter overcoat, one that's big enough to cover Stiles completely in his current position if he turns it sideways.

He gives Deanna a grim smile. “I don't know what Derek's going to be more upset about, all of us being hurt, or his car being totaled.”

“That Derek?” she asks, pointing to the driver's seat.

Stiles nods. “My boyfriend.”

“And this guy?” Deanna poses softly, indicating Theo.

“Derek's roommate. We weren't close, but...” he chokes off, emotion getting the better of him.

“I'm sorry,” Deanna adds softly. “For what it's worth, I don't think he really felt anything. It probably would have been quick.”

It's not really a comfort, Stiles thinks, as he hides himself as best he can beneath the coat. As much as he hated Theo, he didn't deserve to go out like this. He was supposed to quietly disappear from their lives and find his own place in the world and live happily ever after.

Instead, his life was cruelly cut short and his potential wasted.

Stiles finds himself crying as the jaws of life, or whatever it's called, starts work. Metal creaks and bends around him, someone urges his head down, before the glass above him smashes and bits rain down on top of the coat.

The noise the machine makes means Stiles can't hear anything anyone's saying, he doesn't know how Derek is dealing with all of this, if he's woken up from the noise or if this unconsciousness is something more serious.

His spatial awareness changes and he feels the air move around him as the roof of the Camero is lifted away. Someone lifts the coat off of his head and Stiles blinks up at Will, Deanna's partner.

“Shouldn't be much longer. We're getting your boy out now.”

Stiles looks beyond him. He must have spaced out for longer than he thought, because not only is the roof of the car gone, but the front end as well and right now, more paramedics Deanna, and firefighters are awkwardly maneuvering Derek out of his seat and onto a backboard, collar still in place. Theo has already be taken away.

“We're gonna have to get you on one of those as well, I'm afraid,” Will tells him. “Dee says you've hurt your legs, but we don't know what all that pressure keeping you stuck has done to your spine.”

Stiles nods. “I know. I'm a paramedic. I literally got my first job earlier today. We were on our way into the city to celebrate.”

Will smiles. “Yeah? That's awesome, where were you going to be stationed?”

A lump forms in Stiles' throat and he gives Will a tight smile. “Doesn't matter now, does it?”

Will follows his gaze down to his legs. Now that Derek's gone, the pressure is a little easier and Stiles can wiggle his toes of his right foot. His left is still completely numb.

“Sorry, buddy,” Will says, clapping Stiles on the shoulder. “I hope I'll still see you on the front line someday.”

He walks away and Deanna takes his place.

“Okay, pal, here's what's gonna happen. My buddies in the funny hats are gonna pull the seat forward and free your legs, okay? And it's going to hurt, a lot, but you're gonna be brave for me, right?”

Stiles looks her dead in the eye. “No. I'm gonna scream like a baby.”

She smothers a laugh. “At least you're honest. Okay, guys.”

Stiles doesn't know what they're doing, he keeps his eyes on Deanna, but he feels it when the seat starts to move.

He definitely feels it when his left leg is suddenly free and it falls to the side under it own weight.

Stiles lets out a scream he feels down in his soul and then all he sees is darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the crash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update kind of ends in a weird place, but I wanted to end it here. Screw me, I love the tension, lol. So I'll probably have another, shorter update in a few days or so.
> 
> Once again, unbeta'd, so please point out any mistakes.

The first thing Stiles hears when he comes back to consciousness is the beeping of a heart monitor.

The second and third things is Steve Carlson singing _Castaway_ and someone typing on a laptop.

Opening his eyes, Stiles hisses against the bright light of what appears to be a hospital room and he blinks rapidly until his vision adjusts and he can open his eyes fully and look around.

His father is pacing back and forth at the end of his bed, phone held tightly to his ear. He looks tired and Stiles can hazard a guess as to why.

He looks to his left and is surprised to find Malia sitting in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs, a laptop balanced on her lap. She's typing furiously, probably not even aware there are other people in the room, let alone that the formally unconscious one is now awake.

Truthfully, he's a little bewildered to learn that Malia has, obviously, flown to the East Coast with his father. Sure, they were close once – they dated! – and they still talk every few days, and Malia has visited a few times since he moved to New York, but Stiles never would have thought that they had the kind of relationship where she would jump on a plane the second she heard he'd been injured.

And then he remembers. She's probably not really here for him, at least not primarily. Malia is Derek's cousin. 

Malia's adoptive mother and sister had died in a car crash when Malia was ten years old, causing Malia herself untold emotional trauma. It sent her into a spiral for a few years before she decided the best thing to do for her mental health was to track down her birth parents. 

She'd found, to her eternal consternation, that her birth mother was in prison.

That left her birth father – Peter Hale.

Malia and her adoptive father decided to move to Beacon Hills when Malia was fifteen, so that she could be closer to Peter, and they formed a weird bond, with Peter behaving more like the rich eccentric uncle he was towards Stiles, than a father. Which, Stiles realized at the time, makes sense. 

Malia already had a father, Henry. It wouldn't have been right for Peter to try and usurp him – especially given that Peter didn't know he even had a daughter for more than fifteen years.

Once she met one member of the Hale line, Malia had wanted to meet the rest, and, as soon as she was feeling up to it, she was on the first flight to New York with Peter. 

Talia and Wesley Hale had passed away a few years before, leaving Derek and his sisters, Laura and Cora, as the only remaining Hales for Malia to meet.

She'd grown close to her East Coast cousins, especially with Cora, all of them texting regularly. It makes sense that she'd fly all the way here to check on Derek. Though, why she's sitting in Stiles room remains to be seen.

“What are you writing?” Stiles asks suddenly, too curious as to what it was that Malia needed to be working on so seriously in his hospital room. His words startle his dad, who pauses mid-sentence on his call, but Malia doesn't even pause in her typing.

“Stucky fanfic,” Malia answers honestly. “I owe a chapter tomorrow and you've already put me two days behind, so fuck you, I'm writing at your bedside.”

“You better fucking send me a link to that. I can't believe you're writing Stucky without telling me.”

Malia grins at her screen. “I write Sam/Bucky, too.”

“Alright, I officially hate you.”

“I see there's not much wrong with your head,” Stiles' father says, finished with his phone call.

He's leaning against the foot-board of Stiles' bed. Stiles shrugs as best he can in his prone position. “How long was I out?”

The Sheriff takes a deep breath. “It's early Saturday afternoon. You woke up for a little bit yesterday, but you were in a lot of pain, so they knocked you out again. How are you feeling?”

Stiles takes a moment to categorize the aches and pains in his body. There's a tight pulling sensation near his hairline that indicates stitches, and a metallic taste in his mouth that reminds him of biting through his lip when he pulled his leg out from where it had been trapped. His left shoulder aches a little as well.

There's an excruciating pain across his chest that's making him extremely aware of every breath he takes. He pulls at the edge of the gown he's wearing and looks down at his chest and the huge, deep purple bruise striping across his chest.

“Seat belt,” Malia says deftly.

“Yeah, and I thank God for that bruise. If it wasn't there, you wouldn't be here,” Noah adds.

Stiles goes back to the inventory of his body and isn't really surprised to discover that he can't feel his legs too well. Given the IV in the back of his hand, Stiles figures he's on some pretty high painkillers and doesn't spend too much time worrying about it.

“Given the circumstances, I'd say I feel pretty okay. How's everyone else?”

His dad looks at his feet. “Well, Theo-”

“I know.” Stiles cuts him off. “I saw him in the car.”

Noah nods. “Scott is with Isaac, he's a room down the hall. He has to have surgery to fix his shoulder, and his has a deep laceration there as well, from where the seat belt bit into him. But, apart from some other cuts and bruises, it seems like he's going to be okay.”

Stiles lets out a breath. That's some good news at least. “And Derek?”

Noah and Malia share a look that Stiles doesn't like.

“Cora came to see us yesterday,” Malia says softly. “Derek's up on the neurology floor. As of yesterday evening, he still hadn't woken up. We don't know anymore, and they aren't allowed to tell us.”

Stiles frowns. “What? Why?”

“Well, Stiles, you and Derek hadn't actually made anything official, so you're not entitled to know anything, and, by extension, neither are we.”

Stiles waves at Malia. “She's Derek's family. Literally. By blood.”

Malia gives him a sarcastic smile. “Not according to Laura.”

“What?” All this is starting to make Stiles' head hurt.

Noah sighs. “Laura has informed the doctors and staff not to give out any information about Derek's condition to anyone but her and Cora. Cora managed to get away yesterday and let us know that, while Derek was still unconscious, there were no other life threatening injuries. That was the last we've heard from them.”

“This is insane.” Stiles throws back the covers on the bed and tries to swing himself out, but his legs don't work.

“Stiles.” His father rushes to his side, forcing him back against the pillows even as he orders Malia to go and get the doctor. Stiles is aware of her leaving the room, but the majority of his attention is on the small glimpse he got of his legs, heavily bandaged.

“What aren't you telling me?” Stiles asks through gritted teeth and Noah sighs. 

“Let's just wait until the doctor gets here.”

“Dad.”

Noah sighs again. “I don't know, Stiles, I don't know what's going on, I'm not a doctor. I can't explain everything.” He moves to pour a glass of water from a pitcher on the tray table at the end of Stiles' bed.

Stiles looks down at his legs, covered again by the sheets. “This is bad, isn't it?”

Noah is saved from answering by Malia returning with a doctor in tow.

“Ah, you're awake,” she says. “I'm Dr. Beth McConnell.”

“Stiles,” he says with a wave of his hand. He takes a sip of the water, but his dad takes the cup from him as soon as he's swallowed.

Dr. McConnell laughs. “Well, that saves me a few seconds of embarrassment.”

“And me a few seconds of mortification at the reminder that my parents lumbered me with that mouthful of random contestants for a name.”

“Mieczyslaw is a fine name,” Noah says sternly.

“It's an abomination,” Malia mumbles, her eyes back on her computer screen.

“I can see that this is an old argument,” Dr. McConnell says with a smile.

“Since I was old enough to talk,” Stiles confirms. “But you didn't come in her to talk about my name.” 

Her smile dims. “No, I didn't.” She flips a chart in her hand. “How are you feeling?”

Stiles shrugs. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances, I guess. But something tells me you're not exactly here with good news.”

Noah reaches out to take Stiles' hand and Malia stops typing.

“Do you want me to leave?” she asks but Stiles shakes his head. Scott's with Isaac and Derek is...wherever he is. He'd rather have her moral support than nothing at all.

Dr. McConnell clears her throat. “As you're probably aware, your legs received the most damage during the crash. The driver's seat crushed your lower legs against the back seat, cutting off circulation and damaging everything, from bone to muscle to nerves to ligaments.” She frowns down at the file. “When you pulled your right leg free, you removed tissue right down to the bone, damaging everything.”

Stiles throws his head back against the pillows. “Well, this is gonna suck.” He knows enough from his training to understand how hard fixing his leg is going to be – and how long it's going to take.

“I'm afraid that was the good news.”

“What?” Stiles shoots up straight and Noah's hand on his tightens. It doesn't seem like Malia is breathing.

Dr. McConnell takes a deep breath. “In all honesty, pulling your leg free was the best thing you could have done, given the circumstances. It was your left leg that sustained the most damage.”

“How could it possibly be worse?”

“Like I said, being trapped like that caused a lot of damage. Freeing your right leg returned the blood flow before any more damage could occur.”

Stiles swallows hard. “How much circulation was lost?”

“All of it, I'm afraid. The crush injuries severed blood vessels. Being trapped like that created a tourniquet effect, preventing you from bleeding out.”

Stiles feels all the blood drain from his face, like it's trying to return to the damaged limb. “Amputation,” he says to no one, but the doctor answers all the same.

“I'm afraid so. Likely just below the knee.”

Stiles swallows hard as tears form at the corners of his eyes. His career is over.

“I'm going to schedule your surgery for within the next few days, to give you some time to adjust. I've also asked our clinical psychologist to stop by to talk to you. Once you've had the surgery and had a while to recover, we can start talking about rehab and strengthening your right leg.”

“My only leg,” Stiles spits bitterly.

“What about a fake one?” Malia asks, getting to the point as always.

The doctor shakes her head, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “It'll be a while before we can start talking about a prosthesis. The wound has to heal completely first, and we have to get his right leg back to full strength, or as near to that as we're going to get, otherwise he won't be strong enough to carry the weight of the new limb.”

He thumps his head against the pillow. “This isn't happening.”

“Stiles, it's going to be alright, we'll deal with this.”

“My career is over!” he repeats, louder this time.

“He's a paramedic. He just got his first job,” Malia tells the doctor while Stiles panics and loses all incoherent thought.”

“I'm very sorry,” Dr. McConnell says, “I understand this will come as quite a shock, so I'll leave you alone for now. Like I said, I'll schedule your surgery for the next few days, but we'll need to get some other tests done before that happens, so I'll be back to get those started later on today.”

She doesn't say anything else and Stiles doesn't offer anything, just silently stares at the ceiling as she lets herself out.

“Stiles, we'll get through this,” his dad says again. Stiles just shakes his head as tears roll down his cheeks.

The room is silent, except for the music still playing and beeping of the machines. Stiles can't help but notice that the beeping has increased its frequency since he woke up.

Noah just continues to hold his hand as he blinks at the tiles. He doesn't even know what Malia's doing, but she hasn't resumed her writing.

“Do you want something to eat?” Noah asks and Stiles just shakes his head, but the door opens again before he can say anything.

“Isaac was taken for his surgery so I thought I'd – hey! You're awake!” Scott's puppy like enthusiasm hits him full in the face, his huge smile lighting up the room, but Stiles still feels cold.

“Scott,” Malia tries, but she doesn't get any further before Scott launches into a full blown investigation, asking all sorts of questions, informing them on Isaac's condition and just like that, Stiles' silent tears are huge, body-wracking sobs. He folds in on himself and his dad is there, enveloping him, trying to sooth him.

Stiles just cries and doesn't even hear Malia ushering Scott away.

  


///

  


“So, what's your super villain name going to be?”

Stiles looks up to see Scott standing just inside the door, looking sheepish but determined.

He frowns. “What?”

Scott takes the seat his father vacated when the nurse popped her head in making noises about insurance. “Well, most super villain arcs start with a traumatic event or accident, some lose a body part or two. And I know you've thought about this before, so what's it going to be?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I'm not in the mood for jokes, man.”

“Come on, Stiles, you know you'd be having this exact conversation with me if our roles were reversed.”

Stiles offers him a sad smile, but it's all he can muster. “I guess I would, but being on this side of it, it's hard to find the funny. Even if I am already planning my cosplay as a pirate for Comic Con next year.”

Scott throws a light punch at him arm. “I knew it, man. We could so have an epic Pirates of the Caribbean cosplay next year! We'll get everyone involved, you know Lydia would kill it as Elizabeth Swan!”

“Turner,” Stiles corrects.

Scott shrugs. “Lydia's gonna wanna be Dead Man's Chest-Elizabeth, with the big dress.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He's spending a lot of time looking at the ceiling lately. “That is so not the point of her character.” He looks back at Scott. “And besides, I might not be ready for Comic Con next year. The doctor said I have a lot of therapy to do on my good leg before it's strong enough to carry the rest of me. I damaged a lot when I pulled it out.”

“You are strong, Stiles, you'll kick this in the ass.”

“It's nice that everyone else has so much faith in me.”

Scott smiles. “Always.”

“Where were you anyway? You've been gone for ages. And where's Malia?”

“We were trying to get info on Derek. But he's behind one of those doors that you need a key card access and they wouldn't take Malia's word for it that she was Derek's cousin and Laura wouldn't even come out to speak to us.” He gives Stiles a tight smile. “We couldn't even find out if Derek's awake yet, or how he is.”

Stiles thumps his head back against his pillow again, the only way he can actively show his frustration. “What is going on with her?”

“She's probably freaking out over the car crash, Stiles,” Scott points out in a soft voice and it all comes flooding back to Stiles.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, I'm an asshole.”

Stiles had been in middle school when Talia and Wesley Hale died. He doesn't really remember much about it, because it wasn't actually involved. He just remembers Peter leaving suddenly, his classes covered by a sub for months. And when he returned, he was like a shell of his former self.

Stiles didn't ask many questions – his father would have torn him a new one if he had – so all he knows is that Derek had some sort of basketball game, a championship game, maybe, in another town. Talia and Wesley had decided to attend. Laura was off at college in the city and Cora was at a sleepover with friends, so it was just Talia and Wesley who had attended. After the game, Derek had chosen to ride back with his teammates on the bus instead of with his parents. 

But his parents had never made it home. A tire on their car had blown out, causing them to swerve wildly into oncoming traffic and hitting a truck head on. They had both died instantly.

Derek had been freshly seventeen at the time, and had been understandably devastated by the loss of his parents, but hearing the story from Derek, years after the incident, it was Laura who had been hit the hardest.

A college junior studying journalism, twenty-year-old Laura Hale suddenly found herself a single mother of two teenagers. According to Derek, Peter had offered to take all three of them back to Beacon Hills, but no one wanted to disrupt their life anymore than it already had been. Instead, Laura had dropped out of college and returned to their home in Upstate New York. Money had never been a problem, thanks to the Hale's family fortune, so it wasn't like they were struggling or destitute, but it still meant that Laura had to put her life on hold for years. She didn't complete her journalism degree until Cora had finally gone to college. 

Stiles knows that Laura sacrificed a lot for her brother and sister, but she also lost a lot as well. Her life was completely on hold for years while she raised kids that weren't hers to raise, and now she's going through the same thing – another car crash that could change her life forever.

No wonder she's trying to keep everyone else at arms length.

Stiles throws the covers back again. “I need to see them.”

Scott rushes forward. “No, Stiles, wait you can't-” He cuts himself off, his face flushing, and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I can't walk, I know that. So go an get a nurse or an orderly to help me into a wheelchair, okay?”

Scott is saved from answering by the door opening again and Noah's return. He looks back and forth between Scott and Stiles.

“I want to see Derek,” Stiles repeats firmly. He points to his face. “Resolve face.”

Scott snickers and the tension breaks. Noah jerks a thumb at the door.

“Do as he says, Scott. We'll get no peace until he sees him.”

As Scott nods and scurries away to find a nurse and a wheelchair, Noah closes the door behind him and retakes his seat next to Stiles' bed, fixing the covers as he does so.

“What's that face for?” Stiles asks as he watches the consternation play across his father's face. “Things can't be worse than they already are.” He chuckles.

“No, nothing bad, but I did talk to Peter.”

Stiles forces himself to sit up a little straighter. “Oh, yeah? Does _he_ know what's going on with Derek?”

Noah shakes his head. “He said he spoke to Laura this morning. She said Derek's still unconscious and she would contact him when that changes.”

Stiles sighs. This is getting ridiculous.

“But, that's not why Peter called. Malia told him about your injuries and he went into research mode.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Typical professor.”

“He says he has contacts at a specialist clinic in California that focuses on lower limb amputation and after care. He's willing to charter a flight to get you there and get you the help you need.”

Stiles blinks. “That's...insane.”

“That's what I said. But, you know Peter. He's already started refurbishing our house. He's dragooned Lydia, Allison and Melissa into helping him.”

“Refurbishing? What needs refurbishing?”

Stiles hasn't been back to Beacon Hills in about a year, but as far as he's aware, there was nothing in his childhood home that needed any sort of major reconstruction. Maybe a paint job here and there, but that doesn't seem to be what Noah is talking about.

Stiles' dad rubs at his forehead, clearly uncomfortable. “Stiles, when you come home, you won't...ah...the stairs...”

Suddenly, Stiles understands. After the surgery, when they cut his leg off, he'll need help with his recovery. He can't – and doesn't – expect his father to move across the country to take care of him. Plus, he doesn't know what's happened to the new apartment, and he and Isaac currently live on the second floor of a walk-up.

Not ideal for a soon to be lower limb amputee. 

And considering he can't do his job anymore, there's only one thing keeping him in New York. 

He pushes that aside for the moment.

“What...um...what are they doing?”

“Well, we don't really use the dining room, so they're turning that into a bedroom for you. And they're putting a shower room in...somewhere. I was pretty much just letting him talk at that point.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “He did all this in, what? Forty-eight hours? How?”

Noah shrugs. “He had Lydia's help. Together, those two could probably take over the country.”

“Lydia's waiting until she can run for President.”

“Unsurprising. Anyway, what do you think? About the clinic?”

“I...I don't know. I have to talk to Derek first.”

“Stiles, if he hasn't woken up yet-”

“NO!” Stiles cuts him off. “No, we are not having this conversation. Derek's going to be fine, okay? He'll be fine, and when I know that he's going to be fine, then we can talk about what'll happen next.”

“Stiles, you have to know that you're whole life has just changed. It won't be easy from here on out. You'll need help.”

“I know that, Dad. But I also need Derek, so let's just deal with one issue at a time, huh?”

Noah claps his hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a squeeze. “Okay, Stiles. The doctor said the surgery wouldn't be for a couple days, so we have some time to decide.”

Scott comes back in then, with a nurse in tow, and Stiles notices that neither of them have a wheelchair.

“Hey, Stiles, I'm Patrick,” the nurse says.

“Hey, Patrick. I notice you don't have a wheelchair. I take it I'm not going anywhere any time soon?”

Patrick shakes his head. “Sorry, pal, not today. You literally just woke up a few hours ago after a major accident. You're on a lot of meds and we don't know what other injuries you have, besides the obvious.” He winces as his gaze flicks to where Stiles legs are hidden beneath the covers. “Moving so soon could cause even more trauma, so we have to monitor you. It'll be at least another day before we can let you out of that bed.”

Stiles nods, understanding, and Patrick gives him a smile.

“After we get some food into you and run some tests, get some more x-rays, we can reassess.” He heads towards the door. “Dr. McConnell has left a lot of instructions so I'm actually going to get started on that right now, since you seem so eager. I'll be back in a second.”

Both Scott and Noah thank the nurse while Stiles just watches him leave and tries not to cry over how much his life has changed in such a short amount of time, and how there's still a lot more change to come.

  


///

  


It's not until the evening of the next day, Sunday, before Stiles is given the go ahead to go and see Derek.

In that time, Stiles has learned that he had a compound fracture on his right leg, which was operated on just after the crash. It was a bad fracture, which will need more surgery before he can even think about rehab for a prosthesis on his soon to be missing left leg. He also has a deep laceration in his head which required fifteen stitches, his left shoulder is broken, a few ribs, and more bruising than just the one from the seat belt.

If Derek and Isaac are in this bad a shape, all of their recoveries are going to be long and brutal.

Speaking of Derek, Patrick returns to Stiles' room just after dinner, complete with a wheelchair.

“Alright,” he says, setting the chair next to Stiles' bed and applying the break, “let's go see your boy.”

It takes both Patrick and Scott and a lot of pain and maneuvering to get Stiles into the chair, and once he's in it, he declares that he's never getting out of it, because that way leads to more pain.

Patrick just laughs. “Sorry, Stiles, but you have a lot of shit ahead of you and you need to be in that bed to get all the rest that you can get. This is just a one time jailbreak. You guys better get cellphones sorted out to keep in touch.”

Stiles just glares up at him. It had been a point of contention between Stiles and his father when he found out that none of their cellphones had made it with them to the hospital. Stiles doesn't know if his was smashed and destroyed or just plain forgotten about, but it was a big deal to Stiles not to have anyway to contact any of his friends. Noah had promised to return the next day with a brand new one, after Stiles and Scott had sent him to Stiles and Isaac's apartment to get some decent food and some rest, while Scott stayed with Stiles and Malia with Isaac. 

“Okay, lets get this show on the road, before I get my ass chewed by my boss,” Patrick says, pushing Stiles towards the door. 

“I don't know, maybe you'd be into that,” Stiles quips. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Scott asks, hovering next to him.

“Sure,” Stiles answers lightly, “I'm sure Derek will want as many visitors as he can get.”

In all honesty, Stiles is the one who wants him there. He doesn't know what he's going to find when he gets to Derek's room.

It takes a while to get to their destination, down corridors, a long elevator ride, and then more corridors, before they come to desk in front of a set of access only doors.

“Hey, Prue,” Patrick says lightly to the nurse behind the desk, “my patient here is dating one of your patients. Any chance they could have a little reunion?”

“Which patient?”

Patrick taps Stiles on the shoulder and Stiles realizes he never gave Patrick anything more than Derek's first name.

“Uh, Derek Hale,” he answers stiltedly. 

Prue makes a face and hits some keys on the computer in front of her. “Sorry, boys, but the patient's family has requested no visitors. No exceptions.” Stiles had already been aware of that, after what Scott told him, but even so, he had thought they would make an exception for him.

“What?” Stiles snaps. “No, my name is Stiles, um, Mieczyslaw Stilinski. I'm Derek's boyfriend. We've been together for, like, three years. I have to see him.”

Prue just shakes her head. “I'm sorry, honey, but the only ones allowed in are Derek's sisters.”

“His cousin is literally in the building,” Scott points out, his voice high and tight, “surely she would be allowed in?” Stiles realizes then that this is probably a different person than Scott and Malia spoke to before and he's trying the family angle again, since it apparently didn't work on the last nurse.

Prue is slowly losing her patience. “Son, this the neurology department. All of the patients here are victims of an immense amount of trauma. Visitors are always restricted to family only, and if that family want to restrict those who can visit even further, well, that's they prerogative. I will let Mr. Hale's sisters know that you stopped by and if they want to let you in, they can inform us here at the desk and we will take their lead.”

Stiles swallows past the lump in his throat. “Can you, um...can you at least tell me if Derek is okay? They, um...the last thing anyone heard was that he still hadn't woken up from the crash.”

Prue stares him down for a few seconds, then seems to take pity on him and she physically deflates, like she's let her defenses drop for a second. “He woke up this morning. He still has a lot of work to do, he's not out of the woods yet, but it's better now that he's awake.”

Stiles nods, tears welling. “Thank you. Can you please tell him I stopped by?”

“I will, honey.”

Without prompt from Stiles, Patrick turns the wheelchair and starts Stiles back on the long journey to his room.

  


///

  


“What the hell are you doing?”

The sound of the voice makes Laura Hale jump and she turns away from the door to the neurology department to see her younger sister, Cora, glaring at her from the middle of the hallway.

Laura straightens her jacket and herself. “Making sure that nurse is following our orders.”

“ _Your_ orders,” Cora snaps, “don't act like this is is a mutual decision, or that you even asked what I thought about this insanity.”

“Whatever,” Laura says, walking away from the entry and back towards Derek's room. But as she passes Cora, she sees it in her eyes the second her sister figures out what Laura was actually doing.

“Oh, my God, was that Stiles? Were you actually just standing there watching the nurse tell Stiles that he wasn't allowed in to see his boyfriend?”

Laura squares her jaw. “Stiles turned our brother into someone we don't even recognize. This is our opportunity to get _our_ Derek back. Don't you understand that?”

Cora shakes her head. “What I don't understand is where my big sister went. Because this person?” she waves her hand, encompassing all of Laura. “I don't even know her.”

“Think what you like, but do not stand in my way with this.”

Cora scoffs. “Or what?”

Laura bites down on what she wants to say. That's something she'll keep up her sleeve for now. Instead, she shrugs, as if she's unaffected. “Then I'll tell Derek that you can't cope with his new condition and you've left the state and you'll never see him again. I'll make damn sure of that.”

Cora seethes, Laura can see the hatred burning in her eyes. She also knows, after everything that's happened to their family, that Cora would do anything for her brother. “So you're just going to lie to him?”

“I'm going to do what needs to be done in order for Derek to get better. That means no distractions.”

Laura leaves her baby sister gaping in the middle of the hallway and walks back to Derek's room with her head held high. She knows she's doing the right thing.

When she opens the door to the room, Derek perks up, then visibly deflates when he sees that it's Laura.

“Expecting somebody else?” she barks, pissed at his attitude.

“I thought you were mom,” he admits sullenly, staring at his hands as he picks are cuticles.

Laura cringes and pulls her long dark hair out of it's ponytail, allowing it to spill around her shoulders. “Derek...”

“What? You said we'd talk about it later, that you'd tell me why she wasn't here. It's later, Laura.”

“Derek, you just woke up a few hours ago from a really bad accident. We need to make sure you're going to be okay before we start adding more stress.”

“Stress?” Derek repeats. “Mom not being here is stressing me out, Laura, so if that's what you're trying to avoid, you're really shit at it.”

“Derek!” Laura admonishes at the same moment someone giggles from the doorway.

Derek follows the sound and narrows his eyes at Cora, leaning against the jamb there. “Who the hell _are_ you?”

She looks devastated and Laura forces herself to take a deep breath.

“Derek, we talked about this, this is Cora.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, 'cause Cora is thirteen years old and lives in a Wonder Woman hoodie.” He gestures to Cora skinny jeans, biker boots and leather jacket. “You're not Cora.”

Laura swallows past a lump in her throat but Cora just looks furious. Laura gets it, Derek regained consciousness in the early hours of the morning and immediately started asking for his mom and dad.

It didn't take them long to realize that something had happened to Derek's memory. Although, Laura is a little miffed that she apparently hasn't changed all that much since Derek was a teenager.

Currently, Derek thinks he's sixteen years old. The last thing he remembers is trying out for the basketball team. 

He doesn't even remember if he made the cut.

The doctors are worried about brain damage, obviously, they have a lot of tests and scans scheduled to find out exactly what's wrong in his head and they're worried about causing even more psychological damage by telling him the truth and having him go through the grief of losing his parents all over again when they don't know what they're dealing with.

But Derek keeps asking for Talia and Laura doesn't know what to do anymore. 

This is her baby brother, and she vowed to do whatever it took to keep him safe.

Laura blinks away her tears and sits on the edge of the bed and takes Derek's hand in hers.

“Der-Bear, there's something you need to know.”

“Laura,” Cora says sharply, but Laura just waves a hand over her shoulder.

Derek points a finger at her accusingly. “I knew there was something you weren't telling me.” He glares at Cora. “And I knew that wasn't Cora.”

“No, Derek, this is about Mom and Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, everyone!!
> 
> Also, I name my OC's after whatever TV show or movie I was watching while I was writing. Deanna and Will from the last chapter came from Star Trek: TNG, Patrick here came from Silver Linings Playbook, Prue came from Charmed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to post this - I got sick not long after posting the last chapter. Not coronavirus, but sick all the same.
> 
> I've also update the tags to reflect what's happening in the story.

“Who the hell is this?”

Laura draws up short just inside the door of Derek's hospital room. It's early in the morning, Derek actually seems to still be asleep, and Laura didn't expect Cora to be here at this time. Which is exactly why she brought her visitor in now.

But Cora seems to be doing everything to disrupt Laura's plans.

“This is Derek's friend, Erica Reyes,” Laura says brightly. Derek stirs and Erica gives a timid little wave.

It had taken a lot to convince Erica to actually come to the hospital. She kept repeating over and over that she didn't actually know Derek all that well and how one of this other friends might be better.

Laura had had to think on her feet, quickly spinning a tale about Derek calling her name in his sleep, which would obviously mean that his memory isn't really gone and maybe Erica could help with bringing it back completely.

Erica had been quick to agree after that.

In the car ride over, Erica had asked about Stiles and Laura had nearly caused another car crash, so surprised by the fact that Erica actually knew Stiles. She'd pulled the car over and made Erica promise not the mention Stiles to Derek. She could see it in Erica's eyes that she'd misunderstood, the pain that welled up there was almost tangible, and Laura just went with it. Let Erica believe what she wanted to believe from Laura's words, because, at the end of the day, she would still achieve her goal.

Get Stiles out of her brother's head.

“And why is Erica here,” Cora asks, her voice sickeningly sweet. Laura sees right through her and grits her teeth.

“I thought, one of Derek's friends might be able to shake something loose in that noggin of his. Erica was nice enough to volunteer to be our first guinea pig.” She gives Erica a big, encouraging smile, but the girl still looks nervous as hell. She's probably no older than Cora and Laura knows she's out of her depth, but Laura herself is desperate.

“Erica?” Derek slurs, dragging all of their attention to the bed. He's pulling himself up against the pillows, rubbing at his eyes. His bed head is epic.

Erica's smile grows more genuine as Laura watches with interest as she moves closer to the bed.

“Hey, Derek, how are you?”

Derek eyes her warily. “Do I know you?”

She pauses, like she's trying to remember where they met and Laura feels her heart rate kick up a notch.

“Yeah,” Erica says finally, “we went to college together. Early childhood development.”

Laura makes an abortive move to stop her, but the words are out of Erica's mouth too quickly. She'd been keeping it from Derek, the fact that was about to start work as a teacher. She's not really sure why, it's a good career, and it's not like Derek's going to remember any of his training anyway. But this is Derek's chance at a fresh start. It should be a clean slate all around.

“What, kids?” Derek asks, wrinkling his nose.

Erica laughs. “Yeah.”

“Why don't Cora and I go and get us all some coffee?” Laura says quickly. “Give the two of you a few minutes to get reacquainted.

“Acquainted,” Derek corrects, “there's no 're' here.”

Laura just forces out an awkward laugh and forces Cora out the door, reaching for her purse almost as an afterthought.

As soon as they're through the access only door, Cora whirls on her.

“Who the hell is that?”

Laura shrugs. “I don't know. I went by Derek's place yesterday to pick up some stuff for him and I found her number pinned to the fridge. So I gave her a call.”

“Are you out of your mind?! You have no idea who this woman is! She could have been someone he was buying something from on Facebook Marketplace!” Cora exclaims.

“I'm not an idiot, Cora. I asked her how she knew Derek. She said they were friends.”

Cora snorts. “Obviously not a great friend, if her number was on his fridge and not in his phone.”

Laura starts down the hallway towards the coffee machine. “Well, they have time now to change that. She seems nice, don't you think?”

“I think I don't know her. She could be a serial killer for all I know. She might wear socks with sandals or put the milk in the bowl before the cereal.”

“Oh, don't be so dramatic.”

“I'm being realistic while you try to pimp out our brother to a literal stranger.”

“I am not trying to pimp him out, relax.” Laura rolls her eyes as she feeds coins into the machine. “I'm just trying to remind him that he has some options.”

“Find him a nice girl to settle down with, right? 'Cause God forbid Derek be gay. That's the worst thing that could ever happen to the Hale family.”

Laura shoves a cup of coffee into her sister's hand as she glares at her. “The Hale line must be preserved at all costs and I will do whatever I need to do into order to make sure that goal is met.”

“Including _lying_ your ass off to your only brother.” Cora throws the coffee at Laura's feet and storms away. Laura hisses as the hot liquid splashes her legs and she jumps back a step. But she doesn't do anything to stop Cora from leaving.

She doesn't feel good about what she's doing she knows lying to Derek is wrong, but she meant what she said to Cora.

Peter doesn't seem to have any inclination to have any more children and as the last male heir to the Hale line, it is Derek's responsibility to continue that line. They have money and properties and charities and foundations that need to be continued and protected and Laura will do everything in her power to make sure that happens.

Including removing any and all obstacles to her goal.

Flicking coffee off her boots, Laura returns to the machine and gets three new cups of coffee, awkwardly carrying them back to the room.

But when she gets there, both Derek and Erica are gone.

  


///

  


Derek watches as Erica watches his sisters. He can see she's wary, like she doesn't feel comfortable around them.

She waits until the door closes behind the two of them before she moves towards it in a blur of blonde hair, peering through the window, watching them leave.

“Alright, Big Guy. Jailbreak.”

Derek perks up instantly. “What? Seriously?”

Erica smiles. “Relax, we're not going far, but I think you and me need to have a little but of a conversation before Miss Bitch-In-Charge comes back.”

“Laura?” Derek asks. He's already out of bed and shoving his feet into the God awful grandpa slippers his older sister bought him. He'd told them yesterday that he wasn't wearing the gown anymore. He wasn't about to shimmy his way to the bathroom with his ass hanging out in front of his sisters and a bunch of hot nurses. Cora has immediately run out and got him a bunch of sweat pants and over sized t-shirts, making Derek feel far more comfortable in this whole situation.

“Bingo,” Erica says, helping him into a robe. “Come on, just a quick walk up the hallway. You're fit for that, right?”

“Guess we're about to find out.”

They walk slowly, turning left out of his room, away from the access only door that protects the floor.

Around a corner at the end of the hall, they spot a wooden bench that looks awkward as fuck to sit on, but even the few short feet he's just walked has Derek more winded than he'd like to admit, and he's grateful when Erica leads him towards it.

“We're not really friends from school, are we?” he asks as soon as he's got his breath back.

Erica smiles brilliantly and Derek is hit by how pretty she is. “No,” she says, like it's a game. “I'm Boyd's girlfriend.”

Derek feels ten times lighter by the mention of his best friend's name. “Boyd? Really? How is he? _Where_ is he?” It's the first connection to the life he remembers since he woke up, something warm and familiar that he latches on to.

Her smile fades a little. “He's in New Jersey right now. His grandma had a bad fall, so went to stay with her for a couple weeks to help her out. But I told him what happened and he'll come see you as soon as he gets back.”

Derek nods. “So why did you lie to Laura?”

Erica looks down at her hands for a second. “I wasn't really lying when I said we weren't close. Yeah, we hang out and we text a few times a week, but...” she trails off with a shrug. “I'm Boyd's girl, you know? Not someone you actually chose as a friend.”

“You seem pretty cool,” Derek tells her and immediately feels his face flush in embarrassment, suddenly realizing how young he sounds next to her.

She points a finger at him. “I am the coolest and you will do best to remember that.” They both laugh, before Erica sobers quickly. “When Laura called me and told me what happened, I blew her off, initially. We're not best friends and I could guess why she chose to call me and not the other number that I know was pinned to your refrigerator. So I called Boyd and told him everything. He was the one who convinced me to call Laura back and told her I would do what she wanted.”

“Which was what?”

“To be your friend. He said you were probably going to need one, if Laura was running the show.”

Derek frowns. “Why do you have such a hate on for my sister? She's not that bad.”

Erica narrows her eyes at him. “How old are you right now?”

“I know how old I am, okay? The doctor's explained everything to me. You don't have to make fun of me.”

“I'm not trying to make fun of you, Derek. Please.”

“Sixteen,” Derek says gloomily. “I don't remember anything past sixteen.”

“Well, the Laura you remember from when you were sixteen is a very different person to who she is now.”

Derek takes a moment to think about that, to think about what Laura has been like since he woke up in the hospital. He had originally chalked her strangeness up to the situation, to how worried she was about Derek's condition.

It wasn't like she was awful, she was still Laura, still his big sister who would do anything to protect him. But now it was almost like she needed to be in control. If Derek's doctors came to see him, she would talk over Derek, asking questions on his behalf, talking about him like he wasn't in the room. Whatever he might or might not remember, Derek was legally an adult, and yet Laura was treating him like a child. Like _her_ child.

“She's used to being in control,” Derek mumbles, trying to imagine what it must have been like for his big sister after their parents died.

“As long as it comes from a good place, right?” Erica asks. “It's all about you and how you feel, right?”

“What are you talking about?”

She points at her own face. “Me.”

“You? What does any of this have to do with you?”

“Why am I here, Derek? Why did Laura call _me_ and not Boyd, who you've been friends with for most of your life? Laura found my number pinned to your fridge and I know for a fact that there are other people's phone numbers there because you suck with your phone. But she called _me._ A girl.” She bats her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

“ _Because_ you're a girl?” Derek asks, catching on. 

Erica cocks her head to one side. “Sixteen, that was about the time you realized you weren't just checking out the girls, right?”

Derek feels all the blood leave his face and he looks up and down the corridor, waiting for Laura to pop out from around a corner, saying she'd overhead their entire conversation.

“How did you know that?” he whispers when he knows that the coast is clear.

“Because you're out, Derek. You dated...you've dated guys.” Her voice gets thick and tight and she looks down at her hands, like she's hiding her face. Derek wants to ask her what's wrong, but the current conversation takes all of his attention.

“I dated guys? And Laura knows?”

Erica nods. “Yeah. But I think she might be trying to rewrite history.”

“By bringing you, a pretty girl, to see me,” Derek says with a sigh of understanding.

“Aw, you think I'm pretty?”

All the blood that drained from Derek's face rushes back there in an instant as he blushes. Erica doesn't dwell, just pushes on with her story.

“From what Boyd tells me, Laura didn't take the bi revelation all that well. She treated it like it was phase you were going to get over.”

“She can't make me not remember that I like guys, Erica. It doesn't work like that. What's she gonna do when she figures out I have a crush on Sam Winchester?”

“You really do like the nerdy types, huh?”

“I don't know what that means.”

“Never mind. Look, for now, there's nothing we can really do. You still have a lot of tests and you're not getting out of the hospital any time soon. Laura's still treating you like the child you think you are. So for now, you need to grow up. Get some independence back, take charge with the doctors. We'll go from there.”

“Erica, I'm sixteen.”

“Derek, you're almost thirty, it doesn't matter how old you think you are, legally, you're an adult and you can tell Laura to step aside.”

“Will you stay?”

She frowns. “What?”

“I mean, you said we aren't close, but ever since I woke up here, you're the only one that seems to be really on my side. I think I'm going to need your help.”

Erica throws a light punch at his shoulder. “I'll stick around. Besides, me and Boyd are in this for the long haul. So if he's not going anywhere, neither am I.”

Derek gives her a thankful smile.

  


///

  


“Mal, I need coffee,” Stiles pouts as Malia steers him around the hospital.

Malia had had the idea of getting Stiles out of his room, so they'd begged his nursing team to let them go and, finally, they'd relented. They'd stopped by Isaac's room to pick him up, and how they've been wandering around the hospital for an hour or so, Malia pushing Stiles in a wheelchair, and Scott doing the same for Isaac.

Isaac doesn't really need a wheelchair, all of his injuries are to his upper body, but hospitals and liability, it's either the chair, or he stays in bed.

“You're not allowed coffee,” Malia reminds him for what is probably the fifty-third time since he woke up.

“Which is insane,” Stiles counters. “I survived a pretty horrific car crash, I'll bet you my good leg a cup of coffee isn't gonna kill me.”

“Can we not joke about this please?” Isaac mutters. “We might have survived the crash, but not all of us did, and we didn't all make it out in one piece.”

Scott and Malia mumble agreement and Stiles looks down at his blanketed legs.

“Yeah, fair point.”

“How about a nice cup of OJ and cookie?” Scott says, his voice high with optimism and Stiles can practically hear Malia rolling her eyes, but she still steers his wheelchair towards the bank of elevators that will take them to the cafeteria.

“Hey, isn't that Laura?” Isaac says, pointing to the other end of the corridor. They all follow his direction and Stiles finally spots Laura Hale, running frantically between doctor and nurse, her face a mask of anguish.

“Guys,” Malia's voice is strained and Stiles knows exactly what she's not saying in that word, but Scott, like the enthusiastic puppy he will always be, calls her name and waves wildly.

Of course, Laura notices them straight away and Scott and Isaac head straight for her while Malia – and, by extension, Stiles – stay where they are in front of the elevators.

“What the hell do you want?” Stiles can hear Laura's voice carrying all over the hallway as she glares at Scott and Isaac.

“We were just wondering how Derek was doing?” Scott's voice is calm, gentle, the same tone he uses for scared animals at the clinic. “The nurse the other day told us that he'd woken up. We were just wondering if we could see him?”

Even from where they are, two dozen feet away, Stiles can still see the hatred and pain burning in Laura's eyes.

“Derek's gone, okay? Are you happy now? Derek's gone, so leave me the hell alone!”

She spins on the heel of her very expensive boot but Stiles doesn't hear or see anything after the swish of her black hair.

There are people talking to him, telling him to breathe, trying to guide him, show him what to do, but he can't, he's lost all the will to care.

Or live.

And then there's just darkness.

  


///

  


As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Laura feels the guilt envelop her. 

She hadn't meant to imply what those words implied, they just spilled out. She's just so frantic and scared, after returning to Derek's hospital room and finding both him and Erica gone. She'd asked the nurses and the orderlies and even the damn janitor, but no one had seen them leave. It was like they'd just vanished into thin air.

After their fight, Cora wasn't answering Laura's calls, like the bratty, over-grown teenager she was, so Laura had no one to turn to as she searched the hospital for her brother.

She's on her way back to the neurology floor when her cellphone rings. She expects it to be Cora, but it's her uncle who's name flashes across the screen.

“Peter,” she says calmly as she answers, stepping into the stairwell. “What do you want?”

“Is it true?” Peter asks.

His question makes Laura pause. She'd left Stiles and the other less than ten minutes ago, how the hell did her words reach Peter in California so quickly?

And then she remembers.

Malia.

Laura often forgets that Peters has a daughter, given that they're both all the way over there in California. Peter must have sent her to New York when he'd heard about the crash, and Laura knows she's tried to get into see Derek more than once since she'd arrived. Laura also knows that Malia had hung out with Stiles a few times when she'd come to visit Derek, so it makes sense that that's where she'd go when Laura denied her entry.

“Laura!” Peter calls when she's been lost in her thoughts a little bit too long.

“What?”

“Is. It. True?”

It's on the tip of her tongue to say 'no', to say that Stiles misunderstood her words, that Derek's just missing not...not _that._

But then she pauses again, thinks. It's one way to do it, right? Laura wants Stiles out of Derek's life, so that Derek can recover and heal in his own time.

So that he can return to the old Derek she lost the day he met Stiles.

“Yes,” she answers simply, keeping all emotion out of her voice.

“When?” Peter's crying now and Laura feels her own heart breaking.

“This morning.” Her voice cracks and she lets it.

“You should have called me,” Peter tells her. 

“Why? You went back to California and found a daughter and it was like you forgot all about us.”

Peter's tone changes, to something hard and cold. “That's not true and you know it. I talk to Derek and Cora every week. It's not my fault you are apparently too busy to accept my calls, or even return them.”

Objectively, Laura knows he's telling the truth, but she doesn't care. Right now, she just needs to get him off the phone.

“And now there's one less person to take up your time with weekly guilt filled phone calls,” Laura snaps.

“Laura,” Peter tries, “at least let me know when the...the funeral will be.”

“You're not invited.” She ends the call before he can say anything else, just as the elevator dings for the arrival at her floor.

“Hey, there, Ms. Hale,” says the nurse behind the desk by the access only door. His name tag says Micah. “Looks like your brother has returned from his little jaunt around the hospital.”

Laura practically skids to a stop. “What?”

Micah jerks a thumb towards the door. “Your brother. He's in his room with his friend.”

Laura doesn't reply, just throws herself at the door. Thankfully, Micah hits the button to open it before she slams right into it, and then she's through and tearing down the corridor to Derek's room.

Laura practically skids into Derek's room, and then skids to a halt when her eyes land on the bed. The bed, where Derek and Erica are sitting, laughing and talking, heads bent close together, familiar and comfortable.

Laura's feels happiness for the first time in...in longer than she cares to remember.

“Hi,” Derek says when he notices Laura standing there watching them. Erica offers her a shy smile, which she returns tentatively.

“Where were you guys?” she asks, cursing herself.

“Oh, we just went for a little walk, didn't we, Derek?” Erica tells her, her smile turning sweeter when she looks back at Derek. “He has to start getting his strength back, right?”

Derek nods, looking from Erica to Laura and back again and Laura suddenly feels like she's intruding.

“Knock, knock,” another voice says, and Laura spins to see Derek's doctor standing in the doorway, tablet in hand.

“Dr. Parkman,” Laura breathes softly. “How are you?”

Dr. Parkman nods gently. “Very well, thank you, Ms. Hale. Derek, how about you?”

“I'm good, thanks.”

“I just came by to discuss Derek's prognosis and continued treatment, now that he's woken up,” the doctor tells them.

Laura nods. “Sure, let's, um, let's step out into the hall and we can-”

“No.” Derek cuts her off with a single sharp word and Laura gaps at him.

“Derek?”

“I'm the patient, right? I might think that I'm still sixteen, but I'm not. I'm an adult. So whatever you have to say about my condition, you can say it to me.”

Dr. Parkman looks flustered. “Oh, um, of course, Derek. It's just that, you're sister here said that you weren't feeling up to...to the complexities of what all this involves, so she was going to take the lead for now.”

“And I appreciate that. I know I owe a lot to Laura. But I've been feeling an awful lot better than I did when I woke up, so I would like it if we cut out the middle man, um, woman, from now on.” He throws Laura a smile. “That's okay, right?”

Laura blinks at him, completely caught off guard. Derek has never spoken to her like this before, never asserted himself like this. He's always been her passive little brother, the one who does as he's told and never puts up a fuss.

And now here he is, standing up for himself, becoming confident even as he lies in a hospital bed, broken and bruised.

Laura isn't sure she likes the monster she's created.

  


///

  


The first time, he was surprised to find himself in a hospital bed when he woke up, now, when Stiles blinks his eyes open, he's not surprised at all.

Everyone's in his room, even Isaac, still in the wheelchair he hates so much. 

Stiles doesn't say anything when he realizes he's finally regained consciousness, not at first. First he just takes a minute to watch everyone. They're all talking quietly, subdued and sad. Malia's crying and that's the most surprising thing of all. Malia doesn't like to show her emotions, views it as a sign of weakness. The fact that she's openly weeping in front of Stiles' father makes Stiles realize what he has to do.

“Hey,” he says, shocked at the gravely sound of his voice. He doesn't remember much after Laura threw those words at him in the corridor.

As soon as the word is out of his mouth, four sets of eyes are on him, all of them looking extremely worried.

“Stiles?” his dad asks, “are you okay? How do you feel?”

“Like my boyfriend just died,” he chokes out, his eyes are already filling with tears.

Malia sniffles and Scott reaches out to put a hand on Isaac's shoulder while Noah perches awkwardly on the edge of Stiles' bed and takes his hand.

“I'm so sorry, son. I really don't know what to say.”

“Apart from how much we hate Laura for not letting us see him before...” Isaac trails off and Stiles feels his chest get tight.

Malia waves her cellphone in the air. “She's not taking my calls and Peter said she hung up on him when he tried to find out what actually happened.”

“How long was I out?” Stiles asks when he finally manages to take a deep breath again.

“About three hours,” Noah answers.

“You're just in time for dinner,” Scott says with what Stiles knows is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Patrick said he'd bring something for all of us, since, you know...”

Stiles snorts. “Since my boyfriend died and I panic attacked myself into oblivion?”

No one has anything to say to that and Stiles just sits there in his bed, holding his dad's hand and crying silent tears.

Suddenly, Malia jumps to her feet, startling them all. She wipes hastily at her eyes and then strides confidently towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Noah asks.

“To see Laura,” she says without a pause in her steps, “to find out what happened.”

“Mal, she's not going to be here,” Stiles says carefully, his voice thick. “Derek's...not here anymore, so she has no reason to stick around.”

Malia whirls to face him, her arms spread wide. “Then what, Stiles? What are we going to do?”

“We're going to call Peter. See if he can still get me in to see that specialist in California. We have no reason to be here now, either.”

“Son, are you sure?”

Stiles looks to Isaac, who shrugs. “I can transfer. There's no way I can afford to stay here by myself. And on top of that, I don't really want to.” 

Stiles sniffs and wipes his nose with his blanket, much to everyone's disgust, but he just doesn't give a shit anymore.

“Then call Peter. We're all going home.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know...I suck.
> 
> Sorry, guys! I hope you're enjoying it anyway!


End file.
